


From the Heart

by afreezingnote



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Artist Castiel, Bunker Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 15:48:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8215289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afreezingnote/pseuds/afreezingnote
Summary: Dean threw his coat across the wooden chair in the corner of his now-empty bedroom, wondering where the sleeping occupant he’d left behind to pick up an order of kolaches, his birthday present to himself, had gone. Seconds before launching himself onto his bed, his muscles already tensed for motion, he saw a box on his desk that hadn’t been there when he left. Someone had wrapped the box, which was the size of the kind jewelry stores use to package necklaces, in solid, dark blue paper. Dean altered his course to pick up the box before sitting down on the side of the bed.He turned the box over in his hands, looking for some indication of its origin.  Finding nothing, Dean peeled up the tape and slipped the wrapping paper off to reveal unadorned white underneath. He flipped the lid open.  Atop the thin, protective cotton lining lay a small, rectangular piece of paper bearing handwriting he’d become familiar with over the years.  It read From Castiel.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Canon divergent from 8.23 - Sam healed without Gadreel and Cas got to stay in the bunker from the start.
> 
> Written for the Destiel Writers & Readers Facebook network’s Colors Challenge
> 
> Prompt: Bronze

**August 4, 2014**

Dean had bought Cas a sketchbook and some map pencils several weeks earlier after a conversation about human hobbies. Sam had pointed out Cas’s tendency for doodling in the margins of any paper nearby since becoming human, and Cas had told them he found drawing to be relaxing, a way to filter out extra energy and clear his mind.

Since then, Cas had filled the pages with various things he’d seen from birds and flowers to monsters and people. He was sitting in the library nursing a cup of tea as he fleshed out the wings of a hummingbird they’d watched through the window of a dinner in Oklahoma the day before. A series of previous attempts lay scattered around him on the table.

“These are really good, Cas,” Sam said, slipping into the seat across from him.

“Thank you,” Cas said. “I can’t see to get the green just right.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Sam said. “Have you thought about trying out any other things that might interest you?”

“We’ve been pretty busy lately,” Cas said. “I haven’t really had the opportunity.”

“It looks like we might be in for a lull in activity now, so I was thinking,” Sam said. “The community center in Lebanon offers a series of classes for adults. Some of them sound pretty interesting. I know Dean wouldn’t be into it, but I was wondering if you might want to check out a couple of them with me.”

“What are the classes?” Cas asked.

“I have the list in my room,” Sam said.  “I’ll be right back.”

Two weeks later, Cas and Sam both started two classes. They decided to take DIY Repurposing together. Sam chose Combat Aerobics as his other course, and Cas selected Practical Art, a class with four three-week subject concentrations. From a list of dozens of options, Cas picked painting, pottery, jewelry-making, and woodwork as his subsections of focus.  


**December 25, 2014**

The Winchesters had decided to have a real Christmas this year. Though it might take a bribe get them to admit they enjoy doing typical family activities, they both agreed that Cas should get the full human experience, which also meant thoughtful gift-giving.

Sam and Dean got Cas a mix of practical items and new supplies to fuel his crafty pursuits, but neither of them had a solid clue about what Cas might be giving them.

With the last major crisis months in the past, no one even felt the need to spike the eggnog before they started exchanging presents.

The Winchesters waited to open their presents as they watched for Cas’s reactions. He especially liked one of Sam and Dean’s collaborative efforts--a stainless steel tackle box filled with tubes of oil paint, multi-purpose erasers, and sticks of charcoal instead of fishing lures.

Sam unwrapped a weighted leather bookmark with his initials carved into a pair of matching wood chips dangling from either end, and Dean dug a set of four engraved coasters made from oak wood out of a bag dotted with glittery snowflakes.

Dean examined the coaster on top of the stack, rotating it in his hands. It had a devil’s trap carved into the surface, and the bottom was lined with a circle of leather to prevent slipping. Each coaster bore a different image. An angel banishing sigil, an anti-possession symbol, and the Key of Solomon completed the set.

While gathering up the dishes from a home-cooked meal, Sam and Dean paused, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“I don’t know about you, man, but I think this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had,” Dean said.

“Same here,” Sam said.

The best gift, in Dean’s opinion, came later that night in the form of Castiel curled up next to him in bed.  


**January 24, 2015**

Dean threw his coat across the wooden chair in the corner of his now-empty bedroom, wondering where the sleeping occupant he’d left behind to pick up an order of kolaches, his birthday present to himself, had gone. Seconds before launching himself onto his bed, his muscles already tensed for motion, he saw a box on his desk that hadn’t been there when he left. Someone had wrapped the box, which was the size of the kind jewelry stores use to package necklaces, in solid, dark blue paper. Dean altered his course to pick up the box before sitting down on the side of the bed.

He turned the box over in his hands, looking for some indication of its origin.  Finding nothing, Dean peeled up the tape and slipped the wrapping paper off to reveal unadorned white underneath. He flipped the lid open.  Atop the thin, protective cotton lining lay a small, rectangular piece of paper bearing handwriting he’d become familiar with over the years.  It read _From Castiel_.

Beneath the cotton nestled a handmade keychain. The top part consisted of three concentric wooden rings stained bronze, fashioned together to form a gyroscope. The center circle contained a protective pentagram and the edge of each ring was lined with Enochian characters. The gyroscope connected to a short length of plaited, black leather finished with about three inches of fringe.

“This is badass,” Dean said.

He fished his keys out of his pocket and attached the gift immediately.

When he went poking around the bunker trying to find Cas and thank him, he found a note in Sam’s unmistakable scrawl stuck on the fridge.

 _Off on secret party business._ _  
_ _Be back soon,_ __  
S & C  


**Now - September 18, 2015**

“Breakfast can wait a moment,” Cas said, circling his fingers around Dean’s wrist to stop him from getting out of bed. “I have a surprise for you.”

He pulled a slim, square box, about fifteen inches across, out from the drawer of his nightstand. He handed it to Dean without comment.

Dean cast a curious glance Cas’s way, but his expression gave nothing away.

Cas hadn’t wrapped the box, so there wasn’t much suspense.

“It’s a symbolic rather than functional art work,” Cas said as Dean opened the box.  “A wall hanging.”

A card on top of screen of tissue paper blocked Dean’s view for the moment. He flipped it open to read the message inside:

 _Happy Anniversary  
__Love,_ __  
Cas

The base of the wall hanging was a section of a tree limb the color of ashes, a color Dean would know anywhere. It was clearly a portion of a tree from Purgatory.  

“How did you get this?” Dean asked.

“I called in a favor from a reaper,” Cas said. “I thought it was appropriate since you kissed me for the first time under one of those trees.”

Cas had strung white and grey strips of leather, cut to form a wedge moving from three inch to twelve inch strings, underneath the wood, which formed a backdrop for seven blue and black feathers.

“These are yours,” Dean said.

Cas nodded.

“One for every year we’ve known each other,” he said.

“I love it, Cas,” Dean said. “I love you.”

Cas leaned over to plant a kiss on Dean’s temple.

“For that, I am eternally grateful, en azizaor.”


End file.
